On behalf of the Junior Officers, WE ARE BACK! Refreshed from our first leave in six months, strengthened from 37 meals away from Cowie (I slept through two breakfasts), and with sufficient new memories to erase even the nightmare that was Nillson's Finance Final, we are back!

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In the past week I have been what I would call a reasonably patient listener to accounts, of the I-can-top-that variety, on how my classmates spent their leave. I have now received the composer's wish--the right to be heard.

With the feeling that somewhere among you there must be ine who has yet to hear of our trip to Montreal, the highlights of the aforementioned will now be reviewed in a finale befitting its grandeur, finally she declared, with some emphasizing that if we wanted to be coy it was all right with her and she would save us both time by directing herself and party to our room.

Arrived Late

It was well past midnight when we hit the fair city, and an hour later found us fast asleep in room 427 of the Mount Royal Hotel, amid the visions of sugar plums which traditionally dance nightly in the heads of those as pure of heart as we.

Almost immediately the telephone rang! Suspecting an over-anxious chamber of commerce, I strolled to the phone to hear "Nikki" on the wire--Nikki, whom I "whistled at when you came through the lobby." Now my whistle isn't bad, but, generally speaking, it's pretty well controlled, and I protested my innocence. But the more we discussed the matter, the more insistent "Nik" became, and

Nutcrackers Into Suite

While it would be doing a grave injustice to call Nikki common, I think I have seen the general type before. Her "party," on the other hand, was composed of 8--of the good-clean-kids type--8, cracking nuts in their teeth and carrying with them a faint aroma of tobacco juice. On the whole, our first "contact" with our neighbors across the way was about as impressive as a Harvard Commissioning.

Like the Ashley machine case, of course, reference to your roommate's leave, or a knowledge of the conclusion of the above episode, will enrich the discussion.

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The biggest collective event of the leave was incurred by the 30 of our boys who partook of matrimony last week and brought back their subsequent weekend entertainment with them. For myself, after four sleepless nights on a furlough ticket, mid bawling offspring, and with special attention to one dear three-year-old, name of Ralphy, who rode backwards in the seat ahead, chin hung over the back, drippin' orange juice, and with the most unexplainable silly grin on his face for a solid 600 miles, I will be content to go on running my chances at the Touraine with the multitude.

Yours 'til next week.